


Some Sort of Witty Dragon One Liner

by InfiniteAlexisA



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Also When I Say Friendship I Mean They Hook Up To Some Degree, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Stiles, Dark Stiles Stilinski, Dragon Stiles Stilinski, F/F, F/M, I Only Use One Character and It's Not the Boys I Promise, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Not a Crossover, Recreational Drug Use, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles Stilinski Has Issues, Teens Yah Know, You Know Since They Live In California
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteAlexisA/pseuds/InfiniteAlexisA
Summary: Stiles was half human, born with blue and silver scales scattered across his skin. His natural glamour made most humans see them as adorable brown moles dotted all over his pale body. He blew out snowflakes with his first breath and his mother named him Odmrożenie, Frostbite, a fitting name for a hatchling with skin as white as the driven snow.-The dragon!stiles steter au that took entirely too long to write





	Some Sort of Witty Dragon One Liner

Contrary to popular belief, not every dragon has a hoard of exquisite treasure stored away in a huge cave. 

Some take great pride in having small ones, rings pilfered from kings and a few other shiny baubles here and there. Most hoard with obsessive compulsion, they see something shiny and they need to have it no matter the costs. 

Some dragons hoard as they please, filing things away when they become enamored with it , a different thing each time leaving their “hoard” looking more like the odds and ends left behind in a storage unit. But they liked it that way for multiple reasons, the main being that it was easier for them to blend in with the humans, once assimilation became a necessity rather than a friendly suggestion. 

These dragons would find themselves to be a rarity, hoarding on the basis of emotion rather than greed. 

The dragons born to this line would hoard brilliance, loss, wrath, poetry, and passion. They would hoard adventure and friendships. Like many others, these dragons settled in human settlements and became legends; bringing blessings or bloodshed they had no choice but to live side by side with humanity. 

They felt no need to hide from the humans at first, Openly interfering past the time of King Arthur, through the Greeks and the Romans they thrived.  But now in this new time where magic would be monetized, dissected or outlawed, they no longer dared to show themselves in most places. The invention of the camera limited the dragons more than their pride would let them admit. Yet they made do, with centuries of knowledge and experience behind them many of the dragons changed form to look like the humans, showing them they could live side by side without fear. They found small plots of land to make their own, protecting a small settlement that in turn grew comfortable living side by side with magic. 

One dragon born in a town such as this would eventually go by the name “Stiles” 

Stiles was half human, born with blue and silver scales scattered across his skin. His natural glamor made most humans see them as adorable brown moles dotted all over his pale body. He blew out snowflakes with his breath and his mother named him Odmrożenie, Frostbite, a fitting name for a hatchling with skin as white as the driven snow. 

John did his best to be a good father, attentive but firm, and the fact that his son was half dragon did nothing to hinder his parenting technique.

He scolded Stiles when the boy took his bike for a ride without supervision, but wasted no time kissing his cut and slapping a spiderman bandaid on his knee despite the fact that it would heal in a matter of minutes.

Claudia had been ecstatic to have another dragon in the clan. She soared into the air the moment she was able and waited patiently for the day her son would burst out of his human skin to join her. 

She taught him the basics of being a dragon in the safety of the clouds, the first being how to camouflage himself in the sky. How to harness his fire, and then his ice. How to shrink and grow, how to leave this realm and use the veil to dance between the land of the fae, elves, and other magic folk that had decided to go home rather than share this world with humanity. 

It took years for him to perfect, but that wasn’t a problem as time moves differently in each of the realms, and soon he was able to join his mother on her full moon trips over the preserve. For eons she had spread her wings and blessed the land that nourished her as much as she nourished it. Now her son would be alongside her as her husband waited at home. A warmth flooded Claudia as she blew breath over the town; her blessing was bountiful that year. 

-

Stiles was twelve when he first met the Hales. 

The entire pack had gathered in the preserve, their Alpha stood tall in her wolf-form, yet she bowed until her nose touched the ground when the two dragons landed in front of her. 

Stiles was curious and yipped as he jumped over his mother's tail to investigate the wolves. The grey one next to the Alpha huffed curiously and took a step forward but stopped as his alpha growled at him. Stiles paid her no mind as he waddled over to the beta wolf and blew frost at the tip of his nose in greeting. 

The wolf sneezed and shook his head while Stiles and the rest of the pack did their supernatural version of a laugh. The beta wolf ran his nose along the neck of the small dragon, licking Stiles’ white cheek and feeling dizzy with taste of frost. 

Stiles jumped up into the air blowing out snow, showing off his stark white underbelly while the wolves yipped and danced in the frost. 

Claudia knew her son had a unique and beautiful figure. He had a sleek bullet shape that promised speed and agility once he got out of his awkward limb phase. His scales were fluorescent white with shimmering patches of blue and silver over his body helping him blend into the sky perfectly. 

Claudia was proud, and as she took off into the air after Stiles her only thought was that she couldn’t wait to outlive the world with her son. 

-

When Stiles was thirteen he jumped up on the couch and whispered into his mother's ear that he had a secret for her. Her eyes widened and she had barely been able to contain herself as she waited for her son to share.

Claudia hoarded secrets. John always said that her eyes sparkled with the weight of them. She had heard everything that the world had ever whispered, but that didn’t stop her from being surprised when her child told her that he hoarded love. 

She locked the information away in her mind, never to be repeated unless it became common knowledge, and she hugged Stiles tightly.  

“it's a secret!” He told her firmly, humming for a moment with a finger on his lip before he amended “butttttt you can tell dad if you want.” 

Claudia felt her heart swell and Stiles hummed.

“You love me.” He sighed happily. “Feels good, makes me warm. Wanna see my hoard?” 

Claudia nodded wildly and was close to bouncing with excitement while Stiles lept from the floor to the top step in his own excitement. He was back in seconds with a soft ‘thump’ holding a plush wolf that one of the Hales had given to him a few birthdays back. 

“You have to hug it,” he told her holding it out. “Hug it and let him absorb that sweet sweet love!”

Claudia laughed and hugged her son's toy close to her, letting the feelings of love flow through her body and into the plush wolf before she handed it back to her son. 

“You know honey, eventually that wolf won’t be able to hold all of the love that people have for you.”

“I know.” He told her climbing up onto her lap. “Mr. Show is just for special love, like you, dad, and Scott, and Lydia!! When she can learn to love me and Jackson at the same time.” He said making a face. “I don’t like him, but I can see that she’ll love him so I’ll allow it.” 

Claudia chuckled, Odmrożenie was only twelve and he was already feeling that dragon specific brand of possessiveness. “You’re in a sticky situation kiddo; you can’t really tell people what they can or can’t do. Or who they can or can’t love.”

“I know,” Stiles told her, petting Mr. Show softly. “It's hard though, cause I can see it. I knew that Erica from math loved Boyd from reading but they're both too stupid to listen to me.” He huffed and Claudia laughed, hugging Stiles close. “But it doesn’t matter, because the most precious piece of my hoard will be someone that loves me so much I won’t have to tell them anything. They’ll just know.”

“You’re going to hoard a person?” Claudia asked, amused. 

“Yup,” Stiles said as he started to doze off, comfortable in his mother's warmth. “He’ll have blue eyes, sometimes red; he’ll treasure me with the obsessiveness of a dragon and fight for me with the ferocity of a wolf.”

“How do you know?” Claudia asked in a whisper as she swayed her son in her arms. 

Stiles yawned. “I saw it in a dream.” 

-

When Stiles was fourteen, he negotiated a peace treaty between the Hales and the dark fae kind of, completely, on accident. 

He was with his mother on the way to their picnic place when an angry fae zipped past them, not even stopping to pay respects to the dragons. 

Stiles looked up at his mother and laughed when he saw her face. Both her eyebrows were up slightly and the right side of her mouth was curved in a smirk. “Want to see what that was about?” 

“Let's go!” Stiles said, and they took off running after the fae. Claudia didn't even have to pace herself as her son was able to keep up with her. She laughed loudly, impressed with him, as she seemed to constantly be, and winked when he smiled at her. 

Claudia knew they were coming up on the clearing where the fae had stopped and she cut back her speed to a light jog until she was walking. 

Stiles flew past her and skidded to a stop, his talons catching on a tree as he used it to stop himself. 

“It’s usually best not to burst into an unknown situation.” She told him smiling and he nodded.

“What do you think made it so angry?” 

Claudia hummed and shrugged before grinning over at Stiles. “Why don’t you tell me?” They stopped as she spoke. “Listen, really listen, what do you hear ahead of us?” 

Stiles closed his eyes and was absolutely still for a moment, when his eyes snapped open they were gold. “It’s the Hales,” he lisped though fangs, “Cora is missing, Peter wants to kill the fae king. Talia won’t let him.”

Claudia nodded and leaned over to kiss her son’s fuzzy head, “Well done, Odmrożenie.” She was proud of him, and given some time he’ll be able to use his abilities in his human form without popping a fang. “Let’s go get little Cora back.”

When they entered the clearing they saw Peter and Talia surrounded by hundreds of angry deep purple lights. 

_ “Dragons!”  _

A wave of whispers arose among the fae as they converge around the Stilinskies.  Claudia put her hand up in greeting and smiled; Stiles did the opposite opting to get straight to the point.

“Did you take Cora?” he asks.

The Fae split down the middle to allow for the King and Queen to float over to the dragons; the Queen spoke first. 

“The Hale child wandered into our territory and ate our fruits and confectioneries of her own free will.”

“You’re not supposed to keep anyone who wanders in from the town for more than 24 hours, you know that.” Claudia scolded them. The fae had been in the preserve a long time and in the past they had almost been hunted to extinction until Claudia made peace.

“We are not supposed to keep humans,” the King corrected. The fae all buzzed in agreement. “The Hale child is a wolf.”

“You don’t  _ need _ to take anyone though.” Stiles said frowning. “Your kingdom is large and growing larger; there are several dozen new faces since we last saw you.”

“But she came into our territory.” The King glanced at Claudia but returned his attention to Stiles when he noticed her impassive face. “She ate and rejoiced with us; the magic in her shines bright and we wish to keep her.”

“You have to send her back,” Stiles said firmly.  “She’s not yours to take. If you keep her, the Hale’s will fight for her.”

“And we will not stand in their way,” Claudia let them know. 

Stiles looked smugly at the Fae “I know Beacon Hills turns a blind eye to us, but they would definitely have something to say about a war going on in their woods.”

Whispers of _ “wolf child” and “little dragon! _ ” could be heard as the fae spoke among themselves softly. 

Stiles took this time to look over at the Hales. 

Talia and Peter were standing there, staring back at the dragons, worry and rage clear on their respective faces, a similar hope in both of their eyes. 

“We will give back the wolf child,” the Queen says after a moment, silencing the rest of the fae.

The King and Queen flew over to the Hales. “We apologize for taking one of your kin. We wish no war with your pack.”

“I should rip you to pieces,” Peter growled, his eyes blue. 

“Peter.” Talia warned.

He snarled and advanced forward. “Return her  _ now!  _ Never set foot on Hale land again, and maybe we will spare you.”

“The dark fae have been here before the half-breed wolves have even existed.” The King didn’t bother keeping the disgust out of his voice. He glowed a deep poisonous purple and his people started buzzing around him, the Queen glowing brightly next to him. All the fae seemed to merge into one, seeping into one large cloud of hissing angry magic. 

“And  _ I  _ have been around longer than any of you could believe,” Claudia said, effectively ending the squabble. The fae calmed at her words and after a moment the King spoke. 

“Our apologies, the wolfchild is arriving now.”

Cora ran past Stiles straight into her mother’s arms, Talia wrapped her up in a tight hug and Peter followed suit, the fae forgotten in the midst of the family moment. 

Stiles walked over to the King and Queen.

“Why do they rejoice so intensely?” the King asked, watching them closely. “They are mammals, can they not just have another child?”

“They can but…” Stiles scrunched his nose, “man I don’t know. It’s different, it’s  _ pack _ , it’s family. They love their family.”

“Like humans?” The queen asked.

“Well they are human.” Claudia told the fae. “They come from magic, deep and old, a curse or a choice I don’t remember, but at their core they are human.”

The king nodded. “Understood, we will not take humans from the village or the human-wolves from the forest.” He said the last part in Talia’s direction and she nodded over Cora’s head. 

Peter also nodded, but he made sure to flash his blue eyes at the fae before walking over to grab Stiles into a hug. 

“I won’t forget what you’ve done for me today,” Peter’s lips barely touched the shell of his ear and yet Stiles felt a shock go through him. 

Peter chuckled and squeezed him tighter. “ You’ve anchored me, little dragon.” 

Stiles blushed while Peter yipped and pulled back from the hug. He was now sporting what Stiles thought to be an extremely fashionable frozen earlobe.

Cora looked over and laughed loudly at her uncle, while Talia politely smothered her own laughter in her daughter's hair. 

“Stiles.” Claudia called, and he jogged over to her, a big smile on his face. She swept him up into a hug of her own. “You did brilliantly.”

Stiles felt a wave of pleasure go through his body as his mother directed her love at him. It had taken some time, but she and John had both learned to channel their love towards Stiles for moments like this. 

“I’m glad Cora’s back,” Stiles whispered to his mother. She put him down and they started to walk back towards town after waving at the wolves. “She really loves her family and she talks to me about them all the time.” Stiles continued, “Every time she smells Derek or Laura I can feel love radiating off her like a furnace, but I don’t touch any of that love.”

“Why not?” Claudia asked, always happy to learn something new about her son. 

“Because that’s pack love, it’s not for me.” 

Claudia thought about that for a moment, “How is pack love is different from normal love?”

“Normal human love is fleeting,” he explained to his mother, “which is why it’s so easy to pick out what’s real and what’s happening because Jenny wrote that Bryce was cute on the 4th floor girls’ bathroom wall.” Stiles snickered. “But pack love is different in the same way that clan love is different, it’s bright and shining, it's pure.” his hands were flailing about, “It’s earnest and open and totally not for me, it’s like when Melissa leaves cookies for you and dad eats them. Me taking that love would be ‘unbelievable and abhorrent.”

Claudia snorted and felt a little bit bad about the tiny hell she rained down on John over the sweets, but Melissa’s recipe was one of her favorite hoard pieces. Stiles looks over at his mother with bright happy eyes and Claudia couldn’t thank the universe enough for her son. She would take him to Melissa’s for cookies and a play date with Scott after this. He had done well and she was incredibly proud. Her son radiated happiness and positivity, but he also took his duties as the protector of the town very seriously. He had taken charge of the situation and resolved a conflict without even raising his voice.

“You did good today, kiddo.” She ruffled his hair “How about we see what Melissa has in the oven?”

Maybe, if she was feeling kind, she would bring something back for John. 

-

When Stiles is fifteen, he wakes up in a cold sweat with the alarming feeling that he’s already too late. 

He sits up calmly, not trying to freak out over what could very well be nothing, and leaves his room to find his parents.  

“Mom?” he calls, peering into the kitchen from the hallway. “Dad?” 

He continues to call out as he walks back up the stairs to his parents’ room, worry growing like a weed in his stomach, an inexplicable feeling of loss taking over his body. 

He doesn’t bother knocking when he gets to his parents room, just pushes it open and feels frost erupt from his core when he finds it empty. 

Only then, finally, does he allow the panic to take over. 

Stiles runs to his room and sheds his skin, not a thought given to his clothes as he jumps out of the window and flies straight towards the preserve; he smells smoke before he hits the tree line.

Stiles is quick but not quick enough; no one was that night. 

When he gets to the Hale house it’s already a wet charred skeleton of itself. 

His father is curled up on the ground near the treeline, only allowing himself to break when his job was done, Stiles doesn't have time to change so he shrinks to the size of a cat to avoid being seen. 

“Stiles.” His father’s voice is heavy with an emotion that Stiles hadn’t heard since Melissa kicked out Mr. McCall. The Sheriff scoops Stiles’ dragon form into his lap and holds him close to his face. 

“Your mother. She tried to help.” He whispers into his son's scales. “But the fire was wrong, the smoke was purple, Claudia...she’s gone, Stiles. Almost everyone is,” the words are slipping out of his mouth before he can even comprehend why he’s saying them to a child,  _ his _ child. “Derek and Laura weren’t at the house and Peter made it out but he might not live through the night and your mother-” John takes a deep shuddering breath, his run-on sentences catching up with him.

Stiles makes a miserable noise and curls up tighter in his father's lap; wrapping his tail around the man’s wrist is the only comfort he can give in this form. The young dragon, the teenage boy, could feel the hole of his mother’s missing bond in his chest. Later he would realize that the bond breaking was what woke him up. 

“There was some sort of poison coming off of the fire,” John says, “Someone killed the Hales...and your mother.”

In this form Stiles can only whine, curl up against his father, and wish to see his mother.

Later he would wish for death. He was a being of pure magic, he could have anything he wanted if he just wished hard enough, so he wished, he wished for hours, and days and months and minutes, with every breath and every atom of his being Stiles wished to die, anything to be with his mother. 

-

All throughout the funeral, through the sad stares and apathetic sneers he got once he returned to school, he kept wishing. 

As time went on he lost his words, lost his appetite, lost his drive for anything other than a revenge he wanted but knew he wasn’t strong enough to achieve.

In all that time the only thing ever shook him was when Jackson pushed the ‘dead mom’ button a little too hard and wound up with a broken nose for his trouble. 

Stiles spent his week of suspension traveling through the veil; when he came back he seemed years older. 

The loss of his mother made him bitter and angry, it had taught him that life was dangerous, unfair, and absurd, no matter the dimension you’re in. His father drinking himself to death didn’t help refute that.  

His personality changed as the years went by, shifting and sharpening until the soft sarcastic boy the town knew was unrecognizable from the borderline hermit he had become. Physically he was seventeen, but mentally he was closer to an adult than than he should be. 

He had spent years just moping about the veil, but soon he was adventuring in the lands of the fae and the elves. Doing his best to ignore his pain surrounded by magic and the occasional visit from a relative on his mother's side. They never spoke, but they made sure he was unharmed and sent back word to John.

Every weekend and every day after school Stiles let go of his humanity in a land that had no concept of it and screamed out his pain at the night sky. He had been cut off for years, two in his world and many many more depending on the dimension he was in. The only people he spoke to regularly were his father, Scott, and Deaton, his magic consultant. His limited social contact turned his heart hard, and he used the pain inside him to put a barrier between him and the rest of the world.

Even Scott felt the sharp pang of Stiles’ misplaced misery from time to time. The therapists told his father it was normal; he was sarcastic because he was angry, and he was angry because deep down he was very, very sad. 

But more than that Stiles’ was exhausted, after years of hurting and running and trying to wish himself to death he was tired of it all. So he stopped wishing to die, took a breath and reflected on himself, and at his core he felt a craving he hadn’t experienced in years. A craving that eventually led him to visit his mother at the graveyard. 

-

For years Stiles had  been downright terrified of visiting his mother. Most of the time he wanted to dig her up and throw himself into the dirt with her so he figured it was best to forego it all together. 

Now though? He had started spending more and more time there. He had gotten into the habit of taking a book so he could read to his mother's grave, and then the entire graveyard as a whole. He would stroll through the rows of gravestones and recite poetry in his best impression of his mother. Slowly, the place started to feel like a home and it was only with a small amount of shock that Stiles realized that this graveyard had become a part of his hoard. 

He went home and found his old plushie, Mr. Show. The wolf was still soft with bright blue eyes that made Stiles think about a dream he used to have. Holding it, he could feel that magic had once been in this object. It seemed after years of neglect all of the love that he had so carefully collected had leaked out of it and had left Mr. Show an empty husk, much like his owner. 

Stiles was confused; was it normal for a dragon's hoard to change? And if so what exactly had his hoard changed into? Dead bodies? Gravestones? Cemeteries as a whole? Death? That one felt like a good fit but he wasn't sure, he wasn’t exactly in a rush to find out. 

When he told Scott and his father it was a few weeks after his 18th birthday, they were both unsettled but they took the information in stride, happy that Stiles was sharing with them again. 

Stiles was just glad they didn’t run off screaming or call him a freak to his face.

In fact Scott had insisted that they take a full day to hang out. 

“Hey.” Stiles opened his door and was hit with the full blast of  _ Scott. _ His crooked smile, His soft eyes, the familiar scent of spices and 3 -in-one body soap coming from his hair. Which had recently been cut shorter than Stiles had ever seen it, making Scott look closer to a man than he ever had before.

“Hey dude! Hello Sheriff!” he yelled as he walked inside.

Stiles chuckled. “He’s not here.”

“Oh thank god.” Scott turned around. “Wanna smoke?”

“Sounds like a plan, my man,” Stiles led the way upstairs into his bedroom and Scott closed the door behind them.

Scott threw open the window as Stiles started searching for music on his phone. He flipped on a lofi chillhop station for the time being and then pulled a medium sized black box from under the bed. 

“Do you have blunt wraps?” Scott asked as he tossed his portable speaker at Stiles. 

“Yeah in the box, I think I have a white owl or something.” 

Scott grabbed the drug box and popped it open, rolling his eyes when he read the names of the swishers “Arctic Ice and Blazing Fire Stiles, really?”

“I am a dragon of irony.” He shot Scott a wink. “You got weed or am I smoking you up?”

“I have weed.” Scott said pulling a small plastic jar from his pocket. “Want me to roll it?”

“Yeah, you can, I have the blunt splitter in the box too.”

“Cool.” Scott set to work assembling the blunt as Stiles sat on the bed and scrolled past song after song, reflecting. His time with Scott had taken a turn along with his attitude. When he started sneering in the face of happiness, he expected Scott to leave him behind or watch from the sidelines, but his friend did no such thing. 

They hung out in silence for hours in the beginning. Scott puttering around as Stiles stared at the television with dead eyes, still smelling strange from all the time he spent locked up in his room. After months of silence they started playing video games, or Scott would put on movie so bad that Stiles had to give a running commentary. Occasionally, when Scott pushed, he could get Stiles to tell him a story about where he had gone that day and the creatures he met. 

More recently they wrestled and Stiles pretended not to notice when they would just lay there clinging to each other after; he always told himself he was just too tired to get up immediately.

“Yo.” 

Stiles was pulled out of his thoughts and he couldn’t help but smile at Scott when the boy brandished his blunt proudly in the air. 

“Ohh a genuine smile.” Scott smirked as he put the lighter up to the finished blunt. “I’ve gotten so used to the Stilinski brand smirk.” 

“Shut up.” Stiles laughed, already feeling high off of the emotions associated with Scott’s presence. “Light that shit, hit that shit, pass that shitttt.” 

Scott snorted as he did just that, taking two deep drags before passing the blunt up to Stiles on the bed.

“Come down here,” he said on the exhale. “Talk me to death about death.”

Stiles stiffened but took his drag; he slid down the side of the bed on the exhale and sat on the ground in front of his best friend.

“Hot,” Scott teased as he grabbed the blunt from the dragon's hand.

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles teased back. He snapped at his friend and a small flame came to life from the tips of his fingers.  

“Show off.” Scott rolled his eyes, passing the blunt back after his hits. 

Stiles took two deep hits before looking over at Scott, his friend was sitting next to him staring with honest bright eyes, Stiles took another deep drag before he spoke.

“I don’t really know, Scotty.” He sighed “ I wish I was just a stereotypical dragon. I could collect watches or gold pieces or even expensive fabrics, that would be so much easier.”

“Well your mom had a mental hoard too right?”

“Yeah she did, and things were fine when I hoarded love but then...”

“Then your mother was murdered alongside one of the largest werewolf families on the west coast.” Scott said bluntly. “And now you’re fucked.”

Stiles smiled softly at his friend “Yeah, so now I’m a big freak that hangs out at cemeteries.”

“How vampiric of you.” Scott snorted, blowing smoke out of his nose. “It’s crazy how things change people.” He took another deep drag and handed the blunt to Stiles. “You weren’t supposed to be like this dude. You hoarded  _ love. _ You were supposed to bring love to Beacon Hills for a hundred thousand years.”

“I’m half human Scotty.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’ll live to be a little over 5 thousand, maybe.”

“I’m going to live to like eighty, Stiles, puh-lease” Scott rolled his eyes so hard Stiles couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him. Which in turn made Scott light up like a Christmas tree.

“I  _ miss _ your laugh man. I miss you, the you that you were before everything happened.” Scott’s voice turned bitter. “The Hales didn’t deserve that and neither did your mom.” Scott looked him in the eyes then, the smoke from the blunt adding another level to the conversation. “I hope whoever set that fire is burning in hell right now and if not I hope they get what’s coming to them for the pain they caused you.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say. He used to be so good with words, they always flowed out of him without his permission, but now his throat was sticky with emotion. They hadn't been able to talk about it, and apparently Stiles hadn't been the only one stewing in anger this whole time. He put the blunt to the side, placing it gently in the ashtray, and he moved forward to plant a firm kiss on Scott’s lips. 

Scott sighed into the kiss, an old habit from before. Back when Stiles hoarded love, he would kiss Scott during times like this and Scott would breathe love into Stiles’ mouth. His breath was minty mixed with weed and Stiles thought he could taste the love for a second, pure and childlike, and so like Scott. Stiles pulled back from the kiss and Scott looked soft, softer than Stiles could ever remember.

“Did you get any love from that?” Scott asked. 

Stiles shook his head no, but then smirked. “But I think I know the way and day you die.”

Scott’s laugh shot out of him and he grabbed the blunt, relighting it and changing the topic completely to their upcoming chemistry test. His smile never wavered. 

-

One night, Stiles woke up to a tugging in his chest, so he followed the feeling until he was standing in front of the hospital.

He walked through the halls quietly, slipping into the ICU easily, the doctors and nurses looking through him as though he wasn’t there. He walked into room 305 with the knowledge that death would be visiting this room tonight. 

“Hello?” Stiles asked quietly, walking over to the only bed in the room. 

“Nurse?” 

“No.” Stiles walked up to their bedside, a small woman with gray hair and warm eyes looked up at him. She must have been seventy, and she was dying. 

“You’re going to die.” Stiles didn’t even realize he had spoken until the old woman let out a laugh.

“I wasn’t expecting death to be so young and pretty.” She laughed again before really looking at Stiles. “You’re the Stilinski boy.” She sounded sad.

“Yes.” 

The old lady reached over and put her hand on top of Stiles’ “If we end up in the same place, I’ll say hello to your mother for you.” 

Stiles couldn't make himself speak, so he sits with her for hours until her heart stops and her grip goes limp in his hand. He gets up and leaves before the hospital staff comes crashing into the room. 

~

Weeks after that night Stiles lay in his bed dozing off to sleep. Being in the presence of death had left him feeling at peace with himself in a way he hadn’t for years. Night after night he falls asleep content, wishing for this peace to last forever.

“Nothing can last forever.”

Stiles’ eyes opened at the sound of an unfamiliar voice; he sat up and looked around, stopping when a thin man in a black suit entered his vision. Stiles blinked twice, trying to understand what was going on. “Dragons can last forever,” he replied. 

“And yet,” the man gestures with his boney hands. “Your mother has left you alone.”

Stiles flinched, suddenly so tired, unable to muster any of the anger that usually comes when people talk about his mother.

The man stepped closer to Stiles and slowly crouched down until they were eye to eye. “Your mother left you alone and now you crave something that does  _ not _ belong to you.” his words felt like a reprimand “Do you know who I am Odmrożenie?”

Stiles’ heart stopped for a moment at the perfect pronunciation of his name. “Death.” 

As soon as he said it, everything Stiles had ever known had ceased to exist. Everything was gone, even his own identity, he felt nothing. He couldn’t hear, feel, or see yet in that he felt  _ ecstasy _ . 

“You’re Death, and you’re  _ mine. _ ” Stiles felt his fangs elongate and he knew his eyes were flashing gold at this man, this miracle, this marvel. He was staring Death right in the eyes and he had the urge to bite, to lick and suck and claim. He wanted to hold Death tight and protect him from everything and everyone; he wanted to sit back and watch as Death conquered his enemies. He wanted to put Death in a cage and keep him forever. 

Death chuckled. “You’re  _ admiration _ is appreciated, boy, but I assure you, I belong to no one.”

Stiles snarled, but he stopped when Death leveled him with a bored stare. “This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that’s barely out of its diapers. I’m old, Odmrożenie. Very old and you haven’t even lived through your first century. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you.”

Stiles’ shoulders slumped and he looked down, thoroughly chastened. Death was right of course. Stiles was a thing of pure magic and he would live to be impossibly old, but this was Death. The only thing ever promised to Man, no amount of money or magic could save you from Death. And those beyond Death’s grasp would eventually deliver themselves to his door willingly.

“Now don’t look so put out,” Death told Stiles while taking off his ring. “You are still a magnificent creature and while ill-advised, I respect your claim on me and mine. While the truth is that you will never have me, I can offer you a kind of... consolation prize.” Stiles stared at Death with wide eyes and flinched back when he stuck his hand out, his ring resting in the middle of his palm. 

“What do you mean?”

“If you want you can take this ring and be me, for a time.” He explained.

“I can be Death?”

“You can have dominion over that which you crave most.” Death told him with a small smile. “And I can take a much deserved break.”

“What would it mean...to be you?” Stiles asked.

“Oh it’s much more boring than you’d imagine; you can collect souls if you please, but I have reapers for that sort of thing. You’re already basically immortal in human terms so that’s not much different. The only real difference is that you would own death, in a way.”

Stiles was shaking his head no before he could really think about why. He could feel it in his gut that this isn’t what he wanted. “I don’t want to be you, I want to  _ keep _ you.” 

“Well you can’t.” Death snapped and as he put his ring back on his finger Stiles knew that the offer was off the table. “I’m trying to help.”

“I kno,.” Stiles said. “And thank you, but I don’t think anything short of you coming home with me is going to pacify me.” 

Death nodded at him after a moment. “I will find you a part of me that you can take home then.”

Stiles wanted to ask what Death meant, but when he blinked he was back in his bedroom staring up at his ceiling. That feeling of calm washed over him again as his father called him for breakfast. He was intrigued, and he couldn’t wait to see what death had in store for him.  

He knew for sure now, that he hoarded death. It wasn’t about revenge but that was definitely apart of it. He wanted to make death his, he wanted control and mastery over death itself. He wanted to be able to kill someone with a thought, to bring swift justice down on those that dared scorn him. He fell asleep dreaming of the power of death more nights than not.

-

When Scott came to school missing a chunk of his side the day after he and Stiles had been running around in the woods looking for a dead body, Stiles sighed and texted his dad to let him know he would be home late.

It took the entire school day and a trip to the preserve to convince Scott of his wolfitude (Which was ridiculous because hello? Dragon?) but in the end Scott had to believe him. His bite mark had miraculously healed since this morning, he was disoriented because his senses were heightened, and Stiles could literally smell the wolf on him. 

“A werewolf?”

“A werewolf.”

“Like, a fur and fang having, shapeshifting werewolf?”

“That’s the only kind I know of.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Do I even need my inhaler?”

“No probably not.”

“Then why are we out here looking for it?” 

Stiles chuckled and shook his head.

“Why  _ are _ you out here?” a new voice asked. “This is private property.”

Stiles turned away from Scott and was surprised to see Derek Hale in a too big leather jacket scowling at them.

“Derek,” Stiles said softly. “You’ve grown.”

Derek raised one of his impressive eyebrows in an unimpressed stare. “Do I know you?”

Scott made an offended noise and spoke without thinking. “Bullshit you don’t remember him, his mother died trying to save your family!”

Everyone flinched at Scott’s words and the teen stepped back, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. 

“Laura’s dead,” Derek said after a moment of tense silence. “I’m back because I’m trying to figure out what happened.”

“A wolf attacked me last night and now I’m a werewolf.” Scott supplied helpfully.

“I hoard death” Stiles shared. “and we were walking through the preserve because I could feel death coming from it.”

Scott’s eyes got wide. “ _ That’s  _ why we're out here?”

Derek’s lips twitched into a smile for a fraction of a second and Stiles knew things here were fine. 

-

Stiles sighed as he looked at the school bus filled with dead people. A sudden feeling of  _ something _ and a loud piercing scream had woken him up in the middle of the night and he knew, a lot of people were dead. 

Things here were decidedly not fine. 

“Pretty gruesome right?” a female voice asked from his right. Stiles pivoted to the side, his claws out and eyes gold, ready to face this creature that had appeared next to him. 

“Put those away.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not your soul I’m here to reap; there’s a much bigger job at hand. I’m Malia, you met my boss not too long ago.”

Stiles understood and for a moment he felt his body pulse with that same intense, obsessive need he had felt when he was standing in front of Death. He growled, loud and hungry, while deep in his stomach fire bubbled for the first time since that night. 

“Unless you want a fight?” she asked, eyes taking in the increasingly feral creature standing before her. He straightened up, and his claws were gone after a second; his eyes were still shining gold but he had regained some kind of control. 

“You startled me,” is all he gives in way of explanation. “I’m Stiles, I hoard death.” 

“That cute,” Malia said with a smirk. “Kind of like a college freshman’s ‘what's your name what's your major’ greeting.”

Stiles coughed smoke into his fist and tried to ignore the tugging in his groin. “I’m still new to the whole death and darkness thing.”

She gestured to the bus with her head “Your first massacre?”

He nodded, “I feel bad that it feels good? Like I’m not happy these people are dead, but the….energies they gave off when they died…”

“It’s the same as the little  _ zing _ you feel anytime you pass a graveyard.” She nodded in agreement and Stiles had to resist the urge to let his jaw drop.

“Yes!” he said excitedly, taking a few steps toward her. “It’s like this  _ zing _ that goes off in my brain and in my dick whenever I can feel death. “

Malia smirked, “You’re dick, huh?” 

Stiles blushed and Malia looked him up and down before closing the distance between them to throw her arms around Stiles’ neck. “I don’t know you, but something tells me time distortion magic was one of the last things your parents told you about and the first powers you mastered?”

He chuckled “You know a lot of dragons?” he asked as he waved a hand and they slipped into a timeless pocket he had created for himself years ago. There was a surprising amount of space between this world and the veil. For lack of caring and creativity at the time his pocket looks like a cleaner recreation of his bedroom.

“Reapers know a lot about everything,” she said, glancing behind her before bouncing down onto the bed and undoing Stiles’ pants. “We doing this?” she asked, her hands on Stiles’s belt, giving him time to say no. 

Stiles looked into her eyes and shivered; they were empty. Flat and icy, her eyes held none of the heat that they should and Stiles felt himself twitch in his pants. He couldn’t have Death, and he didn’t want to be Death, but fucking an agent of death? That he could do. 

“Every minute out there is an hour in here,” he told her pulling out his growing dick. “We’re doing this until I can’t move anymore. And then you can yah know, put all those poor souls to rest.”

She wasted no time taking his half hard cock down to the base, making eye contact the entire time she winked with her big empty dark eyes and Stiles went rock hard in her mouth. 

“Fuck yes,” he groaned rocking his hips gently back and forth. “We’re definitely fucking doing this.” 

-

He runs into Malia a lot after that; they don’t hook up everytime and Stiles thinks they're on their way to a semi stable friendship. 

The alpha keeps dropping bodies, but Stiles’ dad is pretty sure, with the exception of the bus massacre, all of the murders are related. 

Derek takes some work, but he explains werewolf dynamics to them: the alpha wanted them to kill with him. The night of the bus incident, Derek felt an incredible pull and Scott woke up in the woods next to a few dead rabbit carcasses. No one was happy, but nothing like that had happened since. The alpha would keep calling them, but it seemed that his attention was mostly elsewhere.  

Stiles...lives. He participates in the world around him for the first time in a while. He helps when he’s needed and most of the time he’s got a plan in mind before anyone even thinks to ask him. But he also has hobbies now. He runs. He patrols the preserve with Derek, practices control and talks about the new girl with Scott, explores his sexuality with Malia, practices the magic he spent years reading about. He smiles at people in the halls and on the street, he helps little old ladies with their bags. He flies over the preserve like he used to with his mom, unable to bless the land, but protecting it in the night. 

His father was happy, not about the death or the alpha, but happy to see his son participating in his own life.  

-

Stiles sighed as he lay on his bed and reflected. Werewolves had come back to Beacon Hills and one of them was running around biting people. He hoped they would be able to do something about this soon because people keep getting hurt. The people in town would start to feel unsafe, and with that they would have an entirely new problem. 

It wasn’t exactly common knowledge that Stiles was a dragon, but he also didn’t do as much as he should to hide it.

People knew his about mother, though they didn’t know the specifics. They knew that she smiled like she knew more than everyone. They knew she chatted with some of the older ladies in town like she had known them their entire lives. They knew that she radiated a warmth that was almost tangible in the winter months, and they knew she loved this town. She believed fiercely in protecting the preserve and the planet in general. The town looked at her and felt safe. Now they look at her son with the same smile but unsure eyes.

No one really said anything, probably because there were a few other supernatural creatures in the town that didn’t do as much as they could to conceal their true nature. Beacon Hills seemed to be an actual beacon to all types and the townspeople had gotten used to it. They had learned to accept and love everyone that made Beacon Hills their home.  

The loss of the Hales had been like a hole in the heart of the town. A few of the Hale men had been policemen, one was a firefighter. The woman were all nurses and school teachers, they were a beloved part of the community. Their deaths, followed by the immediate departure of the Argents, had left a sour taste in everyone’s mouth.

Things were distinctly different after that night. The humans in Beacon Hills might not know everything, but if any stranger came to town asking around about violent deaths or weird smells they rolled away with the impression that Beacon Hills was a lovely quiet town, as far away from supernatural as you could get.

And now that the Argents were back, only weeks before Derek Hale had come back to Beacon Hills to identify his dead sister, the town was keeping an eye on them. They had been quiet, with only Chris, his wife and their daughter coming back to town. They stayed to themselves, and stayed far away from Derek after they had been cleared of suspicion for Laura’s death. 

There was a time before the fire when the Argents stood beside the wolves to protect Beacon Hills. The town had always been protected; when a supernatural creature was out of control the Hales would deal with it, if they couldn’t handle it the task would fall to the Argents; after that, Stiles’ mother would step in. 

Stiles sighed because none of that mattered now. The Hale’s were down to Derek and his comatose uncle, the Argents were social pariahs, and Stiles was just a hatchling in a Dragon’s eyes. He sighed again and sat up, wondering if he should send a letter to his mother’s side of the family asking for help. They had been kind to him once, and he could use the guidance. 

Ultimately though, Stiles was glad that his mother had chosen this town, glad that she had come back century after century until she found his father here. Whenever he flew through the preserve he was confident in the fact that if anyone saw him they would turn a blind eye. He didn’t know much about life for the supernatural in other places, but he didn’t think that there could be a place as safe and accepting as Beacon Hills. 

Stiles decided to act on his sudden feelings of safety and dove out of his window fully shifted into the cover of night.  He needed to clear his head, and ever since Scott had been bitten, he had been spending a lot less time sleeping and a lot more time freaking out, training, relationship counselling, and chasing death. Long story short, the alpha that had bitten Scott was in town, killing not so random strangers and calling out to the teen, trying to get him to share in a kill. The teen in question was busy trying to fuck an Argent. Derek was enraged, Scott was scared, and Stiles was tired.  

They were still high school and Scott had recently become enamored with the next Argent Matriarch, Allison. She was beautiful, sweet, and fiercely loyal to her family and to their code.  Scott never stood a chance. 

So Stiles flew out to the center of the preserve to rest on a large stump that had once been the epicenter of magic on the west coast.  More recently, it had served as a picnic place for him and his mother. Claudia used to take him to the stump and tell him of a time when it had been a giant, flourishing, tower of a tree. When druids came from all over to make their sacrifices to the Nemeton. And when Beacon Hills was the most magical place in the realm. 

Stiles’ mother had been hundreds of thousands of years old when she had settled down in Beacon Hills and she used to tell him about a time before the humans ruled. She told Stiles how she had stood on these mountains and had rained down fire on a dying forest, and how she had come back a hundred years later to see the nemeton flourishing in the middle of the valley. She had been the one to give the nemeton it’s first sacrifice of blood, and dragons blood had carried the tree for millennia until someone finally came along with the time and knowledge to take care of the nemeton. 

A sound in the woods pulled him from his thoughts and he lifted his head up to see Lydia walking towards him. He huffed and shifted back to his human form. Lydia climbed up next to him on the stump and sat down with a sigh, her eyes tracing his naked body lazily. They had become torrid lovers in the last few weeks, as her relationship with Jackson had started falling apart when she discovered she was a banshee and Scott’s sudden transformation bruised Jackson’s ego more than he could handle. Lydia was no stranger to Stiles’ naked form, dragon or human. 

“What brings you out on this lonely trail?” Stiles asked, reaching for the pair of sweatpants that Lydia had brought with her. 

She handed them over and sighed again, “I made out with Scott in Coach's office today.”

“Didn’t Allison and Scott go on their first official date like, yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“That was stupid.” 

“Well that is the part I play.” 

Stiles smirked and looked at Lydia. Her strawberry blond hair, more red in the dark than anything, ran down her shoulders and back in a flowing river. Her ample chest rose and fell with every breath she took, her pouty lips turned down into a delicate frown. He sets the sweatpants aside. “Why do you do this to yourself, Lyds?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, huffing out a laugh causing her chest to give a small jiggle that Stiles couldn’t help but notice. “We’re in high school.” She looked at Stiles and their eyes met. “It’s what we do.”

Oh Lydia, there was a time when Stiles could have written soliloquies and sonnets about her. Years ago he would have exploded just being this close to her. He was naked, she was wearing a deep blue night dress that left more uncovered than not. 

After his mother died, his crush became a full blown obsession; she was one of the only things that could make him  _ feel _ and as he got darker so did his fantasies. He never said more than a polite compliment or good morning to her face. But after she had flounced by, short skirt teasing him with the swell of her ass, he had to bite his fist in the bathroom as he fucked his fist to thoughts of fucking her as the life drained from her eyes. He ignored it at the time, just blaming it on stream of consciousness since he never had any violent thoughts about her. Looking back it was the first sign of the change in his hoard. 

But now, years later, he was calm in her presence. Time had passed and things had changed, Stiles’ had come to terms with death, while Lydia was being driven crazy by it. Stiles hoarded death, Lydia was Death’smessenger, and not too long after the bodies started dropping they started running into each other. Converging silently around the same dark energy, until Stiles smirked over the body and told her, “We can’t keep meeting up like this.” Their partnership was slow starting but once Lydia was sure Stiles wasn’t going to invite her to his pocket dimension for a ritual sacrifice they were able to just... be around each other. 

“You don’t have to belittle yourself.” He says after a moment, “You’re already popular, being smart won’t change that.” 

“I don’t care about being popular.” She told him looking down for a moment. “I just want to be in control, to be normal again. I’m tired of dead bodies. These are supposed to be the best years of my life.” She met Stiles’ eyes again and he was sad to see the tears shining in hers. 

“We could find someone to train you,” he suggested.

She looked livid at the idea. “I don’t want to master it, I want it to go away!” 

“Well it won’t!” Stiles snapped, “It’s who you are. It’s who your grandmother was and it’s who your children might be. So how about you learn to control it so that your kids won’t feel as lost as you do now.”

Lydia looked chastised as the tears rolled down her cheeks and she threw herself onto Stiles, crying softly into his shoulder. She only cried for a moment or two, but Stiles held her tightly until she was done. She pulled back and took a breath, grinding down when she noticed that she was basically sitting on his lap. Stiles smiled and cupped her cheek, pulling her in for a soft kiss. She sighed into it and and started making her way down his jaw with her lips. 

When she got to his neck, Lydia started to suck and he shivered, feeling himself grow hard as his eyes closed without his permission. She wasn’t his everything, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t be anything.

Lydia put a hand on his chest and pushed him back. He licked his lips as Lydia pulled a condom from her cleavage and tossed it at him. 

“You came here with a plan.” Stiles chuckled as she took of her panties. 

“I like you, Stiles,” she said honestly as she moved back over him and then swallowed him down to the base to reinforce her words. Stiles let out a soft moan and let his eyes flutter shut. She sucked him up and down a few more times before evening out into a fast wet pace. 

“You love Jackson,” he gets out, when he remembers how to speak.

She lets his penis fall from her lips and wipes at her mouth. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t still like you a lot.” 

Stiles nodded and rolled the condom onto his dick, Lydia climbed on top of him and sank down slowly, making soft gasps and moans until he's all the way inside her. 

Stiles was big, he knew he was, but watching Lydia’s body arch from just having him inside really reinforced what he already knew. Lydia made small movements, just barely rocking her hips at first, keeping him deep inside. Slowly, after she got used to his size she leaned forward and started to bounce on his dick. Putting her hands on his chest to balance herself, she didn’t even think about the stress of the tree on her knees.  

“Fuck, Stiles.” she gasped out, shivering as he started making little movements of his own., “Touch me,  _ please _ !”

Stiles put one hand on her hip and leaned forward so he could grab her nipple between his teeth gently. 

She moaned and started grinding down on his dick harder. “Fuck, fuck,  _ yes _ !” hey were close enough that her voice stayed soft, contained, keeping this primal display as private as possible. 

Stiles got a good grip on her hips and pulled them both skyward as he stood up. The grass around the nemeton was soft and thick and soon Lydia was spread out on it as Stiles started pounding into her. Her moans grew louder as he pounded and she kept up a constant stream of curses.

“ _ Fuck!”  _ Stiles said, fucking Lydia harder but slower than before. “How are you still so tight and wet after fucking Jackson and me regularly? And moving on to Scott next? Naughty whore. _ ”  _ He put her legs onto his shoulders and pressed forward with his hips alone. “Fuck,  _ fuck!” _

Lydia inhaled hard as he hit her G spot. “Fu-oh my  _ god _ Stiles, don’t stop! I’m gonna cum!”

Stiles fucked into Lydia until she came, and came again. He fucked her until she was a near sobbing, wet, mess underneath him. “You think I give a fuck about your orgasms?” He asked his as Lydia’s pupils dilated. Lydia had let it be known very early that liked to be talked down to during sex. “I’m gonna fuck your slutty pussy until you’re begging me to cum inside it.”

“Please,” Lydia gasped out. “Please please, Stiles!”

Stiles smirked and after pounding her through another orgasm he pressed as far into her as possible, she gasped and choked on her moan “ Thank you for fucking me, for using me,” her voice was sexy, deep and breathy in a way that made his balls tighten. “Cum for me please, I need it, Stiles, please! fuck, fuck, fuck, yes!”

At her words, Stiles’ thrusts became erratic, losing all sense of rhythm after a few more moments as he pounded out his orgasm into Lydia. She shook, another orgasm taking her over as well and they lay there, panting gently as Stiles kissed Lydia once and pulled out when he was certain he wouldn't fall over. 

“Three strikes,” Stiles said after a moment, taking the condom off and tying it. “So what does that make us?”

“Friends,” Lydia said sitting up. “We’re both old enough and open minded enough to do that.” 

Stiles shrugged. “I was never big on being the other woman.”

“You’re not,” she said. “Jackson broke up with me.”

Stiles nodded and stood up, he reached down and grabbed Lydia’s hand. He hugged her close and smiled into her hair when he felt her relax in his grip. 

“Want go back to mine and watch Supernatural until we fall asleep?”

She nodded and Stiles moved back so he could transform. He dipped so Lydia could climb up past his wing to climb on his back and together they made their way out of the woods. 

-

A few days later Lydia was sitting at his desk looking over his research on the mysterious alpha, all of which pointed them in the direction of a catatonic Peter Hale.

Derek was angry and confused, the only two emotions we really need, and wanted to rip his uncle to shreds. Stiles had other ideas. 

He sat up, scratching at his stomach and wiping the sleep out of his eyes. 

“So it’s Peter Hale?” she asked, and Stiles shrugged. 

“That’s what I’m going to find out after school tonight.”

Lydia nodded “Figure it out quickly, Make sure it’s him and call the cavalry.”

Stiles shrugged. “My dad's positive now, everyone killed was directly involved with the Hale fire. I don't condone it, but am I crying at the death of a few scumbags? I say nay.” 

Lydia hummed, pointing to a picture on the board. “And Laura?”

“She was his alpha; she shouldn’t have left.”

“Or she should have had him moved to a facility in New York,” Lydia mumbled.

Stiles nodded, “I’m gonna go talk to him with Derek tonight.”

“How long do you think he’s been pretending to be catatonic then? Or is he just killing in instinct? He has a goal, but who's to say he’ll be satisfied once this revenge is over?” She kept asking questions, but Stiles had become distracted. Lydia was so smart, she was beautiful and funny and just  _ brilliant. _ Stiles just couldn't understand how someone like her could have fallen in love with someone like Jackson.

Stiles shrugged at her questions promising to let her know once he had more figured out and went into the bathroom to do his morning routine. When he got back he saw that she had made an outfit for herself out of a pair of leggings he hadn’t realized she kept here and one of Stiles’ older comic book shirts, she had wrapped one of his plaid shirts around her waist. 

She looked good, good enough to make any nerd faint at the sight of her. 

“How would you feel if I told you that you were apart of my hoard?” Stiles asked.

“It’s fine as long as you don’t expect me to stay in some cave for the rest of my life,” she said easily and Stiles smiled walking over to her and spinning her gently so she was facing him. He kissed her forehead and she shivered as a flash of heat ran through her body.

“What was that?” 

“Dragon protection,” he told her happily. “It’ll keep you safe from most spells and harmful magicks.” 

“Cool, let’s talk about that right after I have some cereal.”

“I’ll be dressed and downstairs in a bit,” he called after her retreating form.

He got dressed quickly in jeans and one of the shirts that Lydia had discarded while she was rifling through his clothes. It was old so it was tight, but it had the Captain America shield on the front and Stiles grabbed a plaid shirt to throw over, it worked and he was ready to go. 

He took the stairs two at a time and grabbed the keys off the counter, Lydia was washing out her bowl in the sink and she trailed after him silently, slipping on her flats and prancing over to the passenger seat. 

“Do you know who set the fire in the first place?” Lydia asked after Stiles had pulled out of the driveway. “Like I know we all have our speculations, but do  _ you _ really know?”

“Well, I’ve been talking with Derek and Allison, both individually and together. I’ve also managed to corner Chris in the grocery store. He loved that.”

“And all signs point to...?” Like she didn’t already know.

“Allison has an aunt named Kate; she sticks close with her father, Gerard. They rolled into town a few months before the fire, and rolled out before the bodies were even cold.”

“So Kate orchestrated the fire?”

Stiles nodded.

“Then why all the extra bodies? Who has Peter been killing?”

“Accomplices’, people that Kate paid off to turn a blind eye or do things she couldn’t. They didn’t start the fire, but they covered Kate’s ass after she did.”

“And you’re sure?” she asked,  “You’re positive these were the people responsible for killing your mother?” Her voice was quiet but intense. 

At the stop sign in the parking lot, Stiles regarded her seriously for a moment before nodding. She leaned over and grabbed one of the hands he had on the steering wheel and put her lips to his ear. She squeezed his hand tightly before speaking 

“I hope Peter kills every single one of them.”

Stiles pulled into the parking lot feeling a little light headed. He had been so consumed with pain when he lost his mother that he didn’t realize there were people in his life who felt the same as him. You didn’t have to love someone to recognize when they deserved justice. 

He looked out the window, Lydia forgotten for a moment, as he saw his father was standing near the front door speaking with the principal. 

“Is your dad a part of your hoard?” Lydia asked curiously, the atmosphere becoming light once again. “Also, is it normal for Dragons to have people in their hoard? Follow up question, do you hoard shiny things or is that just a myth?”

“Yes, no and sometimes.” He told her sliding out of his seat, smiling as she laughed at his answer. Stiles waited for his father to finish his conversation before jogging over to him with Lydia at his side.  

“Hey daddio,” Stiles greeted with a smile.

“Hello Mr. Stilinski,” she said sweetly. 

The Sheriff looked between the two of them with a knowing eye but didn’t voice his opinion of Lydia in his son’s clothes. “Hey kids, I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is that you don’t have to go to school today.” The kids nodded and waited for him to continue. “The bad news is that Harris is dead.”

Lydia and Stiles looked at each other.

“Well that explains why no one could prove that the fire wasn’t an accident.” Lydia said with a frown. 

The sheriff nodded looking at Stiles only for a moment. “And the purple smoke.” They made intense eye contact before he started speaking to the both of them. “Harris was apparently a disgraced chemistry professor at some fancy east coast school. He was fired after a video surfaced of him having sex with a student in his office. Kate probably didn’t have to try to hard to convince him to help since he had the moral backbone of a boston kreme doughnut. Damn good chemist though. ”

Stiles snorted. “That don’t impress me much.”

Lydia smirked  and the sheriff groaned “Jesus kid, could you at least try to seem affected.”

Stiles shrugged. “I’ve never been fond of arson or detention.” 

-

That same night, Stiles found himself pressed up against a wall with a half charred lunatic’s claws at his throat. He flashed his eyes and allowed his fangs to grow out. Peter took a cautious step back but kept his claws up. 

Derek ran into the room and there was a lot of growling, but Stiles paid it no mind as he stepped into Peter’s line of vision with his hands in the air and said:

“If you’re sane enough to plot revenge, you’re sane enough to understand we just want to talk. Don’t make me turn you into an alpha ice pop.” 

Things didn’t really calm down for a while after that, Stiles didn’t really know what he was expecting. 

Later, Peter wasn’t angry that he had been found out, because Stiles’ life was never easy. He was impressed, and a little bit pleased that Stiles had been smart enough to figure out that he was the alpha. He was even more impressed that Stiles had been able to keep Derek from ripping his head off long enough to listen to reason. 

Peter was so pleased he basically purred every time he spoke and it was grating on Derek’s nerves. Stiles only found it mildly charming, like a suave, murderous chihuahua.

“I only have one question and don’t lie to me.” Derek took a deep breath and directed a heavy stare at his uncle. “How could….why did you kill Laura?”

The smug look slipped off of Peter’s face and Stiles cleared his throat when Peter took too long to answer. 

The older wolf huffed through his nose and looked away from the two boys in front of him. They were both legal in the eyes of the law, but to Peter they were still children. “I didn’t really know it was her at first. I was feral, broken and burning while my skin took its time pulling itself back together. The only reason I was able to get out was because she” Peter gestured to his dead nurse at the end of the hallway, “let me out.”

“Why would she do that?” Stiles asked.

Peter snarled “She was touching me, and when I finally mustered the strength to shift instead of being scared, she was  _ aroused _ .” He growled. “I’m not sure what was wrong with her, but without her I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”  He took a deep breath and then continued speaking. “When I ran that first night I remember smelling an alpha.omewhere in my mind I knew that the alpha power would help me heal, knew it would stop the incessant burning.”

“And when you realized it was Laura?” Stiles asked, getting information out of Peter was like pulling teeth, but he needed to know this. Needed to know if Peter was really just crazy, or if the situation made him that way.

“I was disgusted, at myself and at her. If she hadn’t left me here for years our bond would have been stronger, I would have recognized her, even in my feral state. I….don’t regret it, I do wish it had been someone else, but I needed the power, the strength.”

“To take care of Kate Argent.” 

Peter snarled, Derek flinched, and Stiles held back a sigh. He took in the sight of his two distraught werewolves and hoped that he would at least live to regret this.

-

Stiles was high when Peter told him about the fire for the first time.

They both were, and Derek was so high that he had conked out twenty minutes earlier. A stranger to relaxation, his body took full advantage of his lapse in judgement to rest.

They smoked in comfortable silence for a while, something they had started doing about a month ago. Peter had agreed to help the sheriff legally take care of the rest of Kate’s accomplices instead of systematically hunting them down and killing them. When Stiles overheard Peter asking his father what to do with all of this anger he still had inside, John had suggested therapy. Stiles showed up at the man's apartment that night with a different solution. It was a crutch, until Peter could find an in the know therapist he trusted, but it was working.  

Peter looked over at Stiles, took a hit from the blunt, and said “Derek feels guilty because he was fucking Kate in the weeks before the fire.”

Stiles blinked up at him owlishly, unsure of what to say, unsure if he had even heard Peter correctly.

“He shouldn’t, for several reasons, the main one being that he was a child and he truly loved her.” He took a deep drag from the blunt and blew out a plume, the smoke falling over Derek’s sleeping form softly. “I know what it’s like to love an Argent.” Stiles took the blunt from Peter, letting his hands linger for a moment too long.

“Chris?” Stiles asked. He couldn’t imagine Peter being with someone like Victoria; unlike Chris, she seemed to have a genuine hatred for wolves. Stiles could never see her laying with one. 

Peter nodded. “For years when we were younger, and then again months before the fire.” 

“And you loved him.”

“On and off, for a time.”

Stiles took a hit before speaking. “What was it like?”

“Intense because it was taboo, passionate because we were young, and oh so unreal, up until the moment it wasn’t. When it became real, it became painful, sad, pitiful.” Peter looked disgusted for a moment. “No one is safe from the fallout of heartbreak.”

“Not even the wolf that would go against the King and Queen of the dark fae?” Stiles asked trying to lighten the mood. 

Peter huffed and took the blunt. “You were quite the precocious young dragon.” They smoked for a few moments in silence before Peter spoke again, passing the blunt along with his words. “And now you’ve grown— intelligent, entertaining, and oh so interesting.”

“What’s caught your interest?” 

“A lot of things, but mainly a question that’s been on my mind.”

“Fire away.” Stiles made a finger gun at Peter, letting a wisp of smoke curl up from it. 

“You never sought your own revenge?” 

“You ‘sought’ it for me.” Stiles snorted as he took another hit. “I was able to draw the energy from every single one of the bastards that paved the way for Kate’s destruction.” he passed the blunt to Peter. “ I got to hear them scream as you dragged them to hell.”

Peter was curious now, his face portraying his question as his mouth was kept busy. 

“I hoard death. It’s mine as much as it belongs to Death himself. So I follow it, I follow the reapers, to cemeteries and car accidents, and to the bloody murder scenes you left behind.”

Peter held the blunt out for Stiles looking thoughtful “I thought dragons hoarded physical things.”

“We usually do, but my family has always been different. My mother hoarded secrets, my aunt in Poland hoards memories. I hoard death.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Don’t get me wrong. I wanted the people responsible to burn, I wished for their death, needed it like I needed air, but I was young.”

Peter nodded.  “Your mother was dead and you felt alone. Not much love left to hoard, I suppose.”

Stiles took a hit. “These people obviously had knowledge of how to kill supernatural creatures; dragon or not, I wouldn’t have made it out alive. My mother would rather I live for her.”

“Well then.” Peter said taking the blunt from between Stiles’ lips. “Kate will just have to do the dying for both of us.”

-

“I’m not going to hand over my aunt to some werewolves, Stiles.” Allison was giving him the flattest look she could muster across the lunch table but Stiles just shrugged it off.

“You can either hand her over or Peter can drag her out of your house by her intestines”

Scott flinched but Allison stood straighter. “Stiles.”

“Allison please.” Lydia spoke up, always the voice of reason. “There were children in that house. Mrs. Hale was my preschool teacher.”

Allison’s face started to crumble. “She’s my aunt, I just can’t believe...”

“We could come over after school?” Stiles offered. “We have tons of hard evidence that we can show you. It’s not just Derek and Peter crying wolf. This whole town knew there was something off about Kate and the Hale fire.”

Allison nodded and Scott put an arm around her. “If we do this Stiles’ way she’ll go to jail for the rest of her life, serve her time for her crimes, but if you try to hide her....”

“Peter will have her for breakfast,” Stiles confirmed. 

Allison looked miserable, and while Stiles felt bad he knew that she was mourning the loss of an aunt that had never really existed.

Later their little group plus Peter and Derek had gathered inside the Argent’s living room with all of Stiles’ proof. Allison was enraged and Chris could only muster up a look of faint surprise.

“I can _not_ _believe this!_ Most of these families have done _nothing_! Some of them were all human aside from one werewolf!” She was seething, pacing around her living room and trying her damndest not to look at the Hales “She burned down a bookstore, a public bookstore with people in it! For one werewolf!” She turned to her father sharply. “Has Kate ever hunted anything other than werewolves?”

“I’m...not sure.” He didn’t meet her eyes as Allison narrowed them.

“Anything dad, windigo, vamp, tulpa?”

Chris shrugged and maintained eye contact with the floor.

“Well I’m sure she’s exorcised demons?”

“No.” Chris fidgeted, still not looking anyone in the eye. “Kate only ever hunts werewolves, no demons, no vampires, nothing but wolves.”

“And how many has she brought in alive?” Peter asked. He had been sitting in the armchair separate from everyone else, his nephew sitting by his side. He had been quiet since they had gotten to the house but now he was sitting up, eyes locked on Chris’ sweating brow. 

Lydia, Derek, and Scott were all tense, and Chris’ answer fell like a bomb over the room.

“None.” 

Chris whispered it, but Peter stood up abruptly as if he had been shouted at.

“You knew.” 

Stiles would call it an accusation, but Peter’s voice was so sure, so angry, so icy, so  _ raw _ . There was no room for argument in his tone. It was probably the most emotion Stiles had seen from Peter while sober.

“I…not…definitely...she’s my sister.” Chris knew he was in the wrong, but he kept speaking. “I knew she was…aggressive with her kills...and with me. She and Gerard were always…off somewhere and I knew but I never really  _ knew _ .” Everyone was looking down at Chris and he shouted “She’s my sister, I-I  _ love _ her!”

“So you excuse cold blooded  _ MURDER?”  _ Allison shrieked, Peter growled and tried to take a step towards Chris, but Derek put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. 

Stiles was about to voice his opinion when the door swung to reveal Kate Argent herself. She stopped, assessed the scene in the living room and pivoted hard, breaking into a sprint before she was even fully out of the doorway. Peter was after her in a second, followed by Chris and a steaming mad Allison, guns drawn.

Stiles took off after them but stopped, turning back to see Scott and Lydia staring at Derek, and Derek looking pained at the door where Kate just was. 

“Kate Argent is going to die,”Stiles said, he was sure of it. He could hear his hoard calling to him, sweeter than any siren song. He knew that his eyes were flashing and he could feel the burn of smoke getting ready to stream out of his nose, his body was excited to be so close to death. “You’re not weak if you’re not prepared to see that. Scott, Lydia, if he stays, stay with Derek.” Scott nodded and Stiles took off without waiting for Lydia’s reaction.

He couldn’t quite fly in his human form but he was supernaturally quick and soon enough he had Kate’s blond hair in his sights as she made a last minute turn through the trees. He threw himself to the left and snagged Kate around her waist, they tumbled to the ground while Kate screeched, rolling on her shoulder and hopping back onto her feet quickly. 

Back at the house Lydia let loose an ungodly scream that seemed to shake the preserve with its force. Kate looked towards the source of the scream and that was enough time for Peter to slide in and run his claws across her throat. 

She stumbled back, gurgling and falling onto her ass. She looked terrified, and Stiles could tell that this she had never expected this day to come.

“Kate!” Stiles turned around to see Chris being held back by his own daughter and Stiles transformed, keeping his form small enough that he didn’t crush everyone around him. He took pleasure in the terror in Kate’s eyes before he let go of the fire in his stomach.  He started off slow, letting the fire build in intensity, her gurgled ugly screams filling something inside of him, a hole that he didn't realize he still had inside his chest. He had wanted this for so long, and now was his moment. 

He stopped the flames, listening to her soft whimpers as he licked his lips and took a deep breath. He blew out ice, freezing Kate’s half burned form and with one step forward, she was shattered under his claws.  

He changed back, and spit on the icy fragments in front of him. He looked over at Peter after a moment. “I don’t feel any better, do you?”

Before he could say anything else Peter was in his personal space and they were tumbling into the ground, Stiles felt disconnected from himself as Lydia screamed again, Allison’s own scream accompanying her and then Stiles was fading. Pain blossoming down and out from his chest. He heard footsteps and screaming, Chris was crying over by Kate’s remains and Stiles only felt the tingle of oncoming death for a moment before a shot rang out and Chris was falling forward, a corpse on top of a corpse. 

“Now this is absolutely ridiculous.”

Death had come again. 

-

Stiles blinked twice and when he realized that he was sitting naked in front of Death, Stiles looked up and grinned. “Good thing we’re not strangers.” 

“Good thing indeed.” Death intoned with one eyebrow skyward. “It’s always siblings that take their love too far.” He clicked his tongue and gestured towards Kate and Chris, who were both sitting up rubbing their eyes. “The female is responsible for quite a lot of death; she’ll fit right in downstairs.” Stiles noticed that Peter was sitting next to Death. “And this one has spent the last six years dancing in and out of my grasp.”

“Dancing?” Stiles asked curiously.

“He should have been dead long ago.” Death put a hand on Peter’s head, the wolf looked up at him, dazed. “He held on to life with anger and sheer force of will. I think he’d be suitable.” 

“For what?” Stiles asked. 

“For you, of course. I’ll send him back with you, with a little something extra. Nothing that wasn’t already there.” Death ruffled Peter’s short hair, the wolf blinked and then his focus was on Stiles and Stiles alone. 

Stiles looked at Death warily. “You haven’t enchanted him to love me or anything?”

Death chuckled. “Of course not, anything that goes on between you and the wolf is due to no influence of mine.”

“Thank you. May I ask a favor?”

Death looked fond. “I don’t see why not.” 

Stiles looked back to Allison, suspended in time, gun drawn and face composed, even as tears fell down her cheeks. “She needs her father, he was wrong and technically an accessory to many murders, but she needs him.”

Death nodded, “Just this once Stiles, I shouldn’t be seeing you for at least the next twenty years.”

Stiles winked. “I look forward to it.”

Death waved a hand and then he was gone. Peter and Chris were looking around, confused and more than a little shaken up.

“Stiles!” Allison yelled, running over to his side. “What…?” 

“I took care of it.” He told her, sounding older than he was ready to be. “I’m fine, so is Peter and your father, Kate stays dead.” He told her, he tried to sound apologetic, but he knew that his voice didn’t quite make it there. “You should make sure your father's okay, you and he probably need to talk. I have a feeling Derek wasn’t the only one uncomfortably sexually brainwashed by Kate.”

Allison opened her mouth but shut it quickly, deciding to nod instead. As she walked over to her father, Stiles’ attention was immediately recaptured by Peter. 

“You okay?” Stiles asked. 

“Well,” Peter held out his hand, “I’m not dead.”

Stiles took it. “That’s about as okay as it gets.” He stood up and stretched, well aware that Peter was taking advantage of his nudity. He smirked at the wolf. “See something you like?”

Peter put a hand around Stiles’ waist and pulled  him close until he could speaking softly into his ear. “So if my memory is correct, you just had a conversation with Death.” 

Stiles smirked and nodded, twisting so he was looking straight at Peter.

Peter’s answering smile was dazzling. “Fascinating, He did something to me?”

“He just made you mine is all,” Stiles teased. “Forever and ever.”

Peter scoffed against his skin. “Well, if that’s all.” 

Stiles chuckled, “I guess we should get me dressed so we can have a conversation of our own.”

“Maybe we need to have a conversation with Death about consent and ownership.” Peter said as he scooped Stiles up into his arms and walked away with him. 

“Can we stop by the house so they know we’re not dead.”

“If you insist.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You'll get chapter 2 when I pry it from my brains cold dead procrastinating hands. Hopefully before Halloween tho idk we'll see 
> 
> Please, please, please, PLEASE leave a kudos or comment my mental health is 100% tied to the success of this thing for the next few weeks at least. 
> 
> As far as I know chapter 2 will tie up all the lose ends but comment if you have questions or anything you'd like addressed or just requests and I'll do my best! Expect Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Danny to show up next chapter I almost included Jackson this time around so we'll see if I dane to include him next time around. There will definitely be more action as we're all caught up with the universe now! More interaction from Scott and John, a potential trip to fairyland and who knows maybe I'll have the boys stop by I mean it is technically a crossover. Explanations from Chris to come and we'll learn along with Stiles just how much his powers have changed with his hoard. OH AND OF COURSE FULL SPEED AHEAD ON THE STETER!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE I WROTE 14K OF FIC WITH 2 SMUT SCENES AND HAVEN'T EVEN HIT THE ABSOLUTE STETER F I L T H I HAVE IN STORE!??!
> 
> I hope someone liked this because I spent way way way way to long on this one project but you're legally required to tell me if you hate it and what you hated about it lol. That's all for now! Check me out Stilesinatrenchcoat on Tumblr


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